The Boss and Nurse Albright (4 page)

That woman and her child had gotten under his skin, had forced him to feel things—things he never wanted to experience again. Feelings he couldn’t bear.

The damp night air enveloped him as he bit his lip and paced against the torment.

T
UESDAY
morning, Claire passed the mock-up version of the patient herbal survey to Phil Hanson as he sat in his office. She’d stayed up past midnight putting it together. Aside from his medical school and specialty certificates framed on the walls, there were several surfing trophies and photographs of him with his board. His laid back attitude often carried over into his clothes, and today he wore a Hawaiian patterned tie with a pale blue denim shirt.

“Looks good,” he said. His thick wavy hair appeared to only have been finger combed, yet he still managed to pull off a charming air. She wondered why he wasn’t married, then remembered René had commented he was a happy and confirmed bachelor.

“What looks good?” Jason’s deep voice came from over her shoulder.

It almost made her jump. She turned and found she was the closest she’d ever been to him, but the door-frame kept her from stepping back. His face was freshly shaven and he smelled of sandalwood and citrus, which tickled her senses. Though his hair was neatly trimmed,
the longer top part had fallen across his forehead. She fought the urge to sweep it aside. Up close, his gray eyes had tiny flecks of blue in them, and they looked kinder than she’d thought. Or maybe that was because she’d seen him in a new light last night. After he’d read to Gina, her daughter had talked about him the entire ride home, until she’d fallen asleep.

“Well?” Jason said.

“Oh. The herbal survey. Here’s a copy for your approval,” she said, handing the pages to him.

He avoided her gaze, studying the paper instead. In contrast to Phil, his stiff collared white shirt hugged his tanned neck, and he’d made a perfect knot with his drab tie. Someone needed to brighten this guy’s wardrobe up, but it wouldn’t be her.

After her disastrous marriage, she wanted nothing to do with men. In her time of greatest need, she’d been kicked to the curb by her husband. Hadn’t the wedding vows said “In sickness and in health”?

“Looks good to me, too.” Jason handed the survey back and continued down the hall and up the stairs. His dark gray, perfectly tailored silk suit molded well to his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Phil cleared his throat. Claire snapped back to the task at hand, and retrieved the survey from the doctor. He had a funny look in his eyes, as if he’d caught Claire ogling Dr. Rogers, which may have been the case but she hadn’t meant to be so obvious. Her cheeks heated up and she made a quick getaway.

In a room of men, most women would notice Phil Hanson first, with his striking good looks and surfer boy
features. But Dr. Rogers had a subtle solid handsomeness that caused her eyes to linger. After swearing off the entire gender, she wondered why she was suddenly comparing the men she worked with.

Claire shook her head, and strode to the receptionist’s desk for the list of patient addresses.

“We’ll need eight thousand surveys to go out,” Gaby, the receptionist, said.

“Wow, this is a bigger practice than I thought.” Drs. Munroe and Becker had already approved the survey. Now she had Phil and Jason’s blessing, too, so it was just a matter of mailing it.

“That’s the number of families, not the entire patient population. Some will need multiple surveys in one envelope.”

“Oh, and do we have a budget to include a stamped return envelope?”

“I’ll have to run that by Dr. Rogers,” Gaby said.

Claire wanted this survey to be a success and knew that including the return postage made for a higher return rate, but she didn’t want to break her employer’s budget in the process. She mentally kicked herself for not getting the budget approved at the meeting last night.

“No problem. Dr. Rogers is a kitten. He’ll do whatever I ask,” Gaby, the plump, nearly fifty matron said, revealing yet another side of Jason Claire hadn’t counted on.

She thanked Gaby, and felt relieved she wouldn’t have to confront Jason a second time that morning, since he seemed to be pushing buttons she’d forgotten she had over the last year.

The concept of finding Jason Rogers attractive seemed ridiculous!

So why was she still thinking about him in his classy tailored suit?

Three days later, the first of the patient surveys were ready to get mailed. Claire sat with a stack on her desk, double checking to make sure no one had been overlooked. She glanced up to find Jason, looking tall and dashing, in her doorway.

History had proven that it was never good when Jason stood at her door. Her throat went dry before she could utter a sound.

He scratched the back of his neck. “I have a question for you,” he said.

On a rush of relief, she smiled.

He entered and sat in the chair across from her desk and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “First off, I wanted to let you know that Jenny Whatley has told me she no longer has daily headaches.”

“That’s wonderful.” She’d already heard from Jenny but, being a lady, she hadn’t rubbed his nose in it.

With a conciliatory gaze, he continued. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

“Not necessary,” she said, though shocked that he’d mentioned her success.

He nodded, looking relieved. “So now she says she needs something for her anxiety, but doesn’t want to take any of the mild sedatives I’ve offered.” He stared into her eyes, and she found it hard to think of one single thing. He looked earnest and she realized he was
having a difficult time saying what he’d come to her office for.

“Are you asking me to recommend an alternative medicine for one of your patients?” This time, she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it in, just a teeny bit.

He grimaced. “Actually,
she
asked me to ask you.”

She grinned. “Ah. OK, well, I’d recommend valerian. As long as she’s not on any other sedatives.”

“No. None at all.”

She told him the dose and what to watch out for, went to her bookcase and retrieved her favorite herbal medicine book. “Here. You might like to read up on it.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” And he looked sincere, which touched her in a gratifying way.

It was Claire’s turn to hesitate. As if he could read her body language, he lingered in her office. She scratched her cheek. “You made quite an impression on my daughter the other night.”

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “She’s too young and innocent to know the real me, I guess.”

Claire reached into her desk and pulled out a crayon stick figure picture. “She asked me to give this to ‘Man’ this morning.”

Surprise colored Jason’s usual pewter eyes to a softer gray tone. “She still remembers me?”

“Talks about you every day. I tried to teach her your name, but…”

He glanced at the mostly-scribbled picture. “This is sweet. She’s adorable, by the way.”

“Thanks. I think so, too.” And, since he seemed receptive to the latest drawing, she reached back into the
same drawer and pulled out several more pictures. “She’s asked me to give you a picture every single day since you read her that bedtime story Monday night.” She handed them to him.

“You’ve been holding out on me?” His attempt at humor was gratefully accepted.

He glanced into her eyes and she could see pain written in his gaze. With anyone else, she wouldn’t have thought twice about bestowing them with her daughter’s latest artwork. But with Jason she wondered if she was being kind by sharing them, or causing him trauma.

He nodded, almost smiled, took the pile of papers and, without another word, left her office.

Over the next few days Jason enjoyed the respectful routine he and Claire had slipped into. If she arrived in her office first, he’d pause by her door on his way down the hall. He’d nod and say “Morning.”

And she’d beam back in whatever brightly colored blouse or dress she’d chosen for the day. Dangly earrings waving, hair up or down, eyes flashing with life. No matter what the weather, her office seemed filled with light. And it always smelled good, too.

Cinnamon came to mind.

And if he’d beaten her in to work, she’d take the extra few steps to his door to say hi and wish him a good day. The added effort validated him as part of the human race, something he’d forgotten he belonged to.

He wouldn’t admit to anyone, almost couldn’t admit it to himself, but he looked forward to his daily greeting from Claire. The seeds of life seemed firmly planted in
her being and, even though he’d grown used to hiding in the shadows rather than attempting to live like everyone else, he felt drawn to her brand of energy. Wanted to feed from it. And some days, since she’d come to the practice, he even felt like smiling.

Later that morning when Jimmy Dixon cried when Jason entered the examination room, and wailed after he’d made several attempts to look down the boy’s throat, he decided to get backup.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said to the distressed mother, then padded down the hall to Claire’s office. She wasn’t there.

He walked to her exam room and tapped on the door. She opened it just wide enough to peek out. She was gowned and gloved, and most likely in the middle of a pelvic examination.

“Sorry. When you’re done could you help me out in exam room one?”

Her naturally arched brows lifted in surprise. “Sure. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Five minutes later she joined him in his office. Feeling a bit chagrined, he explained his predicament.

“I’m usually really good with kids, but Jimmy hates me, has since the first vaccination. His mother thinks he has strep throat, and I can’t get him to let me touch him, let alone get a throat swab.”

Claire smiled at his request, and he could have sworn the room got brighter.

“Sounds like me trying to get Gina to take liquid antibiotics,” she said. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

“I’d better wait here.” He sat in his office and
thumbed through a pile of reports that needed his attention, but thought about the newest employee instead. Aside from her crazy attitude about alternative medicine being the answer to everything, she was undoubtedly pleasant to work with. He sniffed the air for the telltale sign of her fruity floral scent and enjoyed the added touch of cinnamon he’d always noticed around her. The woman smelled good, and he liked it.

Without warning, the image of his wife came to mind, and how she’d always smelled sweet like vanilla. He tortured himself with memories of how he’d loved to kiss her neck and inhale her scent. How she’d always caressed him back. He’d loved her so much, but feared her image was growing harder and harder to capture. He closed his eyes tighter to bring her back into focus, and massaged the sharp pain in his neck as the ethereal vision of his wife dissolved into nothingness.

“All done.”

His eyes popped open. Claire stood in the doorway with the throat culture in hand. He didn’t remember hearing so much as a peep from the examination room.

“How d’you do it?” he asked, still rubbing his neck.

“I have my ways,” she said with a teasing glimmer in her eyes.

How could he be thinking of his deceased wife one second, and then be taken aback by the simplest gaze from Claire the next?

“Thank you,” he said. His nurse walked by and took the culture from Claire on her way to the exam room.

“Anytime,” Claire said, with the same glint in her
eyes. What had gotten into her? “Maybe you should have that looked at,” she said.

He screwed up his face, then realized she’d referred to his hand kneading his tight neck and shoulder. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“If you change your mind, I’m also trained in acupressure.” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “I could work that knot out in no time.”

The thought of Claire touching him set his nerves on end. He covered by acting gruff. “I’ll keep that in mind, Albright. Now, don’t you have a patient waiting?”

She nodded, then mocked him with a salute. “Yes, sir.”

He felt unnerved by the reaction she’d caused. He suddenly recalled the long-lost game of flirting with the opposite sex, and went completely still. A wave of unfaithfulness stopped him in his tracks, and the pile of lab reports received his undivided attention. Claire disappeared from his door without another word.

The next morning, Jason tapped on Claire’s door wearing a perplexed expression.

“What’s up?” she asked, noticing he was wearing a pale blue shirt under his doctor’s coat that brightened his eyes.

“I have a patient who has red welts all over her back. She’s trying to explain something to me, but I can’t understand her.”

This piqued Claire’s interest. She rose from her chair and followed Jason down the hall. As they walked, he explained that the patient was a newly immigrated Chinese woman who usually brought her daughter along to interpret.

When they entered the room, Claire noted that the patient had a temperature, and she seemed congested and coughed into her hand from time to time. Claire introduced herself, but didn’t offer her hand until she’d donned a glove.

“I was about to listen to Mrs. Ching’s lungs when I noticed the welts,” he said.

“I’m going to have a look at your back,” Claire said to the patient, noticing puffiness around her eyes before stepping behind the exam table and opening the patient gown. When she saw the uniformly placed, fifty-cent sized welts across her entire back, she knew the answer. She closed the gown, removed her gloves, and motioned for Jason to follow her outside.

“She’s been treated by a Chinese traditionalist and had a cupping.”

Jason screwed up his face. “A what?”

“You’ve heard of Ying and Yang.”

He nodded, his expression unchanged, which almost made her laugh.

“Her Yang is working overtime, and by cupping they tried to put her back in balance. The heat from the cups is supposed to suck out the toxins and restore her health.”

“Well, it obviously hasn’t worked this time around,” he said. “She’s feverish and congested and probably needs an antibiotic.”

Claire nodded. “So her daughter made the appointment with you.”

“I wonder if Mrs. Ching’s daughter even knows she’s been treated with Chinese traditional medicine?” he said.

“Good question. Why don’t you give her a call?”